


The Monster Who Hides In The Mirror

by BlackHilda



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:39:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackHilda/pseuds/BlackHilda
Summary: Everyone fears something. Such a great fear that freeze you on the spot, making you lose your composure and obligates you to relinquish into your animalistic instincts. The living nightmare of every man; the unknown, the fear of losing yourself in depths of your deepest desires and not being able to control yourself. To gave in.Everyone fears the thing that triggers that instinctive behaviour in themselves. It could be as small as a spider or as philosophical as the never answered question of what lays after death.With that point cleared out, what I fear (or what triggers me) is the monster in the mirror.





	The Monster Who Hides In The Mirror

It was unnerving. Looking in the mirror. He didn't like what he saw; it was ugly, disgusting. He _hated_ it. It made him lose control and he hates not being in control. It makes him feel vulnerable,  _exposed._ He could feel them; it prickled, burned even. Damn bastard, now even his own body betrayed him. Great. His lips curved in what resembled a mad smile. His reflection imitated him but in a grotesque manner. It was a broad smile; the corners of his lips quirking at an unnatural angle while unsettling pearly canine teeth were slowly starting to show when his upper lip began lifting, baring the fangs that should be his teeth and gory plump-looking lips that shone in the dim lights with a scarlet hue. It was horrific. He felt his breaking point nearing, but he endured.  _A little more_ , he thought, after all that was what his psychiatrist had told him to do.  _"Domain your fear, don't let it consume you"_ had he said, _"Stand your ground, be a man"_   was all the advice he gave him.  _Stand your ground_ , Thomas recalled slowly raising his eyes,  _be a man_ , he encouraged himself doubtfully. In an ever so slow manner, dark panicky brown eyes meet the blackened mirror of them, a wicked gleam giving them a disturbing property which froze every nerve of his body. He was rigid as a statue, his eyes unable to ripped apart from the ones looking right into him. Right into his soul. It was as if it was piercing right through him, salvaging every thought, every dream, every fear, every _memory_ he had ever had. Suddenly a sharp pain engulfed him, starting from his heart and at an alarmingly fast pace spreading throughout his body. He fell instantaneously to the floor. Unconsciousness embracing him before he landed, saving him the pain of the fall.

 

His mind was foggy when he regained consciousness. As if everything had just been a dream, a terrible one that his mind tried to erase from him. But the second he opened his eyes and saw the bathroom tiles, everything came back to him. It was painful, extremely painful. It was as if the memories of early that day were drilling their way into his mind, trying to carve themselves a space in his memory. They were all rushing in at once, way too fast. So there he lay; vulnerable, exposed; with his stomach facing the ceiling in an act of surrender towards the suffering, with both of his arms laying uselessly at his sides. He was waiting patiently until the agony fade away into the imminent start of a hideous headache. He knew he should stand and go for his pills before the headache could actually grow into a thumping living hell but his body hurt. Everywhere. Even his little pinky toe hurt. Places he didn't know existed made their presence sound and clear. He knew he should go fetch his pills, but he also knew the moment he decided standing up was a good idea he would, once again, fall directly onto the floor before he managed to cross the bathroom threshold. He just wanted so bad to sleep.

To sleep off his pain and his headache, to sleep off his problems and fears; basically, he wanted to sleep off his life. But every time he thought the warmth of unconsciousness finally came to meet him, a wave of renewed pain would stiff his body and hitched his breath. And so he fixed his eyes on the ceiling; on the cracks in the egg-shell paint, on the flicker that the light bubbles made every once in a while or in the way his extractor made weird sounds as if it was an old man coughing. That last observation made him snicker ever so slightly. And after what seemed like an eternity, the pain dulled and finally, the exhaustion of hours of laying awake in constant pain washed over him. Leaving a warm sensation after it, just like the evening sun did when it kissed his skin. _Familiarity_ , with that warmth he drifted into the dark sea that was unconsciousness.


End file.
